


The Joys that Both Afford

by Fluffyllama (Llama)



Category: Midsomer Murders
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Fluffyllama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Barnaby and Jones are down at Fennacombe Bay during the events of 'Down Among the Dead Men', the conversation, not surprisingly, turns to blackmail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Joys that Both Afford

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shorina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shorina/gifts).



> Written as a last-minute Yuletide treat that surprised me by going over the 1000 words (just!) The title is taken from the song 'Down among the dead men', and refers to love and wine, though in Tom Barnaby's case other meanings may, of course, be applicable.

"Is this going to be one of _those_ trips?" Joyce asked as she came back into the bedroom. "You know. An exception."

She handed over his toothbrush and Tom added it to his bag. He was bound to have forgotten something else, but at least he wouldn't have to go hunting all over Fennacombe for a chemist's shop. That was always awkward.

"Oh, I don't think so," Tom said. After all, this was _Jones_. He didn't seem the type. "Do you?"

Joyce surprised him by pulling him close and kissing him. "Sometimes I don't know how you made Chief Inspector," she said. "Now finish packing your bag."

Joyce, as he was fond of telling people, was a very imaginative woman.

* * *

"What would you do, sir?" Jones asked him when the Hatchards left them alone that evening. Tom felt a little strange drinking in someone else's living room without them, but even with the early morning plans they had he wasn't going to be able to sleep yet.

"What would I do with what?" Tom asked, taking another sip of wine. "And we're off the clock, so cut it out with the 'sir', will you? It's Tom."

"Tom," Jones tried. "Got it, s—Tom."

"Thank you, _Ben_. Now, what were you saying?"

"Oh. I was just wondering what you'd do if someone like Martin Barrett tried to blackmail you." Ben was frowning over his glass when Tom looked at him. "I mean, I know you wouldn't kill him, but would you pay up?"

"Wouldn't that rather depend on whether or not I was guilty?" Tom asked him, but Ben shook his head.

"I don't think so. You said people's reputations could be ruined just as easily if they were falsely accused."

Ben was right, of course. "No, I wouldn't pay up," he said. "So if you were thinking of a new career, I'm sorry to disappoint you." He laughed and raised his glass, but lowered it when Ben didn't follow suit. "Something wrong?"

"No, s--. No, not really."

But there was something, Tom could see that.

"Sergeant Jones?" he said, in his sternest voice. "You're beginning to worry me."

"It's just—well, it's something your wife said the other day, sir," Ben said finally. Tom didn't bother to correct him this time. Better for him to feel at ease until he'd got whatever it was off his chest. "Some people, well. They might have taken it the wrong way."

"And what way would that be?" Tom had a good idea where this was heading, but if nothing else this was an interesting development. What on earth had Joyce said to get the man in this state?

"Well, sir, she hinted. Maybe more like _implied_, but I'm sure she didn't intend—she implied that if I was interested, and the opportunity arose—"

"Yes?" Tom repressed the twitch at the corner of his mouth that wanted to be a smile.

"That she'd have no objections to some sort of liaison between us." It might have been his proximity to the fireplace, but Jones's face seemed rather red.

Tom let the statement lie there for a few moments before he met Jones's eye.

"As I say, I'm sure it was a misunderstanding," Jones said.

"No," Tom said, not taking his gaze off Jones. "No misunderstanding." He stood up and straightened his shirt. "I'll take the bedroom at the front," he added. "That was the one with the sloping ceiling, I think. Very quaint."

"And the double bed, sir," Jones said. "Good choice."

"I thought so," said Tom, and headed for the stairs.

* * *

"I didn't say good night."

Tom realised he wasn't surprised when he heard the voice from the doorway, even though it was a good ten minutes since he'd heard Jones follow him upstairs. He'd left the door ajar because he was thinking of going back to the bathroom, of course, not because he was expecting… well, maybe it had crossed his mind.

"Don't hover, Jones," Tom said, looking over his shoulder. He finished unbuttoning his shirt and turned around.

Jones took another step into the room. "What happened to 'Ben'?"

"Last I heard he'd gone to the other guest room." Tom smiled. "How is the fold-out bed, by the way?"

"Rather lumpy." Tom wasn't surprised.

"I thought there might be room in here, if you don't mind," Ben said. "I don't take up much space."

Tom creaked his way across the floorboards and gently closed the door.

"If you hog the duvet, I'll kick you out," he said, pushing Ben towards the bed. He reached for Ben's fly just as Ben's hands came up to push the shirt off Tom's shoulders, and he marvelled, not for the first time, at the perceptiveness of the woman he'd married.

"I wouldn't doubt it for a moment, sir," Ben said, and groaned as Tom swallowed him down.

* * *

"You don't think they heard anything, do you?" asked Jones when they were driving home the next day. "The Hatchards, I mean."

"I don't think blackmail is their style either," Tom said. He watched the dunes and tourist signs recede as they headed back inland. He really would have to investigate buying somewhere down here. "He's another ex-copper, you know."

"Oh, I know that, sir."

Tom saw Jones glance at him out of the corner of his eye, and waved at him to keep his eye on the road. Not that there was anything wrong with Jones's driving, but they were both a little short on sleep and you couldn't be too careful.

"I was just thinking, well, they know your wife," Jones said. "But I suppose that isn't really an issue here."

"Not really, no."

Tom was just starting to doze off when Jones spoke again. "If they did though, sir. Try the blackmail, that is. I wouldn't pay up."

Tom looked over, there was a smile at the corner of Jones's lips, and he looked more relaxed than he had for a while. The recuperative powers of the seaside, Tom thought, or at least that's what he was going to say if anyone asked.

"No?"

"No," Jones said firmly. "I haven't done anything I'm ashamed of."

"I'm very glad to hear it," said Tom, and settled down to catch up on some sleep.


End file.
